Since his wife died five years ago, Tim had lived alone in a large, well-appointed village home. A former solicitor, he was comfortable financially, and still fit enough to do a bit of gardening.
Now aged 72 and with no children or other close relatives, like many, he was unprepared for a pandemic. He no longer drove a car and depended on local supermarket deliveries for his day to day needs. Unfortunately, due to the overwhelming demand, these services were no longer reliable.
Provisions were running low. His cleaner was unavailable due to the 'lock-down' and his neighbours were all elderly themselves. However, he was a frequent user of the internet and decided to search for local options.
After several disappointing leads, he came across an intriguing company, based in the nearby town.
On the surface, it appeared to be similar to several others he had examined: A private home-care service for the elderly. The web site was rather more polished, with lots of photos and endorsements.
He was somewhat surprised to learn that they only cared for male clients, over the age of 65. He was also taken aback by the hourly rates - £50! with a minimum provision of six hours per week.
A ridiculous amount. He only paid his cleaner £8 per hour! Nevertheless, the web site continued to hold his attention. There were lots of photos showing attractive, uniformed female care nurses, mostly in their forties or fifties.
Unusually, clients were able to select a carer, based on their individual photos and personal profile. He couldn't resist, and began to sift through the options, purely as a 'theoretical' exercise.
The personal profile pages were more detailed, including several photos, family status, and detailed feedback from satisfied gentlemen.
He kept coming back to one lady in particular. A pretty woman in her early forties with long dark hair and a 'comely' figure. How nice it would be to have her company! That uniform - so tight, with black pantyhose and shiny heels.
He couldn't help himself. He pulled out his old penis and quickly masturbated to her enticing images. Disgusted with himself, he went to bed. Despite himself, the images kept returning to his mind.
After a disturbed night, he determined to contact the agency. Surely it was worth a go!
He was informed that his chosen carer was in demand, but would be available initially, for two weekly visits of three hours. He swallowed hard and paid in advance for an initial trial of four weeks. (over a thousand pounds!)
He put the phone down, excitedly and put the dates in his diary. Her first visit was only two days away. He must do his best to tidy up!
Coronavirus diary Day 3
He watched eagerly at the window, anticipating the arrival of Mrs Hendry, his chosen carer. She was 20 minutes late when her car turned into my driveway. Unusually for someone in a relatively 'lowly' occupation, she was driving a fairly new Mercedes.
